


Sunflowers Don't Grow In Winter (Plant Them Once The Time Is Right)

by Rhidee



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Anxious Crowley (Good Omens), Arguing, Chickens, Developing Relationship, Friendship/Love, Happy Ending, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Just a real yeehaw vibe, M/M, deep talks while looking at the sky, stardew au is on the light side!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 20:35:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20453174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhidee/pseuds/Rhidee
Summary: "You go too fast for me Crowley."You shouldn't be rushed into love.--After they parted ways, Aziraphale decided to start a farm.





	Sunflowers Don't Grow In Winter (Plant Them Once The Time Is Right)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! There's a small spoiler tw in the endnotes. If you're triggered by dub/non con kissing you might wanna read that before the fic. It does not take place during the fic

The chickens were a long-term investment. The amount of potatoes Aziraphale had to grow in order to afford them was downright devilish, especially as he had entered with the hopes of becoming an animal farmer only. Turns out, animals took a lot, but blessed crops only took a little. 

It was a peaceful little town, right by the sea but possessing a lush forest that prevented the salty sea air from ruining the happy leaves of his steadily growing parsnips. The air smelled of foresty things on his farm, which was fortunate, as towards the edge of it by Marnie’s it smelt rather like dung. Aziraphale supposed his would smell the same soon enough, but for now it was rather pleasant.

He hadn’t really enjoyed his work as a farmer, when he was looking after Warlock. He was never quite suited for plants, especially not back then. Being one of God’s angels didn’t necessarily invoke a lot of, ah, personal creation. Best to leave that to the professionals, or so he thought. 

But now, fingernails gritty with dirt, he found a special joy in creating crops with as little miracle work as possible. Of watching the seed he had planted slowly grow, fighting the heavy dirt above it and reaching up towards what it needed. It was fulfilling, in a way he hadn’t begun to grasp fully.

He stretched, popped his back, had a brief mental pout at the pains of being corporal, and turned to check on his cauliflower.

Everything in this corner of the world was exactly right, and exactly his.

Of course, that’s when Crowley turned up.

| -====(=> | <=)====- | -====(=> | <=)====- | -====(=> | <=)====- |

He revved into town at a surprisingly sedate pace. Maybe it was necessary, as there weren’t quite roads per say. Maybe it was politeness. Somewhere along the line, the Bentley had been replaced with a Subaru forester. Or, if you can’t google, a mom car. Why? Dear reader, I don’t know the whims of the demon. Move along.

The Subaru rolled to a stop by the front of his cabin, and Aziraphale sighed into his pile of cauliflower. He straightened and pushed the wheelbarrow along. He did not so much as glance over as Crowley stepped out of the car, snake patterned shoes sinking into the moist dirt, and began to walk towards him. He did not glance over as Crowley repeated his name in varying increments, simply stacked the cauliflowers into the wooden bin after a shake off of spare dirt. He most certainly did not glance over when Crowley, increasingly frustrated (and hurt, not that he’d ever say it), began to gesture intensely at him while saying a variety of words that Aziraphale did not listen to.

He did, however, look over when Crowley began to close the bin in front of him. 

Aziraphale, holding the bin open and against Crowley’s push, looked him dead in the shades. 

One could say, of all the powers Aziraphale has, that his sharp glare is the most frightening. Death is not as frightening as the realization of death. Being crushed is sudden, and you haven’t much time to dwell. Being glared at by a force of nature such as he, though, really drives in the impending doom thing.

Unfortunately for the power of this glare, 6000 years of off-again on-again friendship really dulls the blade. However, Crowley did learn a few things along that time.

He lets go of the bin.

“Angel, listen, I know you’re angry but-“ 

Aziraphale stacked the last few crops in and closed the bin, not with a slam but with a very firm thump. He straightened, clasped his hands together, and listened with his politely-interested-in-selling-you-this-book face.

It felt like a kick to the balls to Crowley, which was precisely how he had meant it.

Crowley quieted. Looked away. Sort of fluffed up, like an angry cat, and took a step forward.

“Aziraphale. I’m sorry. Please let me stay?” He took his glasses off. The sun hurt his eyes, as evidenced from a small cringing hiss. He did a very good pout regardless.

Hands clenching in on themselves, Aziraphale sighed.

“Well, I suppose there’s not much point in making you find your way back now. The nearest ‘city’ isn’t even on the map.” Aziraphale said, turning with a loose come along motion towards the cabin.

And Crowley, without even a glance at his still open car door, followed.

| -====(=> | <=)====- | -====(=> | <=)====- | -====(=> | <=)====- |

Dusk in Stardew Valley was simply gorgeous. It made the whole world seem wonderous, rainy spring clouds in the distant mountains, reds and oranges and even the occasional purple or pink lighting up the sky. The slow rise of crickets and owls and all types of mysterious sounds. The air cooled, sweetgrass scent blowing strong over the cabin, and occasionally a firefly would speckle into existence. 

On his porch, Aziraphale counted cash. The chickens could use a silo, and he almost had enough to buy the copper he needed. He didn’t have nearly enough stone, though. He sighed, putting the cash in the Folgers tin and hiding it back under the log pile. 

Crowley stepped outside, like a shadow sliding across the ground, silent and as unnoticeable as can be. 

“Yes?” Aziraphale said with a glance.

“I was just wondering if ah, you had a spare bed somewhere? I didn’t think to bring a sleeping bag.” Crowley said.

“I rather thought you’d sleep in your car.”

Crowley cringed at that but didn’t protest. He started walking resolutely towards his car.

God, he really was something huh?

“Crowley.”

“Yes, an-Aziraphale?”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes.

“Come inside, we’ll share the bed.”

Crowley shifted awkwardly, opened his mouth.

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow.

Crowley’s mouth snapped shut.

And so they went inside.

| -====(=> | <=)====- | -====(=> | <=)====- | -====(=> | <=)====- |

Their breaths mingled. Not close mingling, granted, but there’s only so far apart you can get while sharing a bed made for one. The fireplace was only full of ash, since it wasn’t quite cold enough to justify even a small flame. For Aziraphale, this was fine, but Crowley’s feet radiated coldness a few inches away from Aziraphale’s legs. 

Pretending to be asleep, Aziraphale shifted forward a little, bringing them together more. Crowley tensed, drawing up a little before pressing back down. He slowly relaxed, eyes shifting in the dark across Aziraphale’s face as the other kept slow sleepy breathing.

Silently, in the night, Crowley pressed closer.

And, heart tentatively beaming, Aziraphale let him.

| -====(=> | <=)====- | -====(=> | <=)====- | -====(=> | <=)====- |

The sun brought the end of such a moment. Aziraphale woke to feel the suns warmth slide across his face, and the small creak of the bed as Crowley rose from it. The front door opened and shut, and Aziraphale opened his eyes.

He had to water the crops he hadn’t yet gotten sprinklers on, let out the chickens, and then see if he could haggle Robin into supplying some of her own stone. Or…maybe….

The front door didn’t creak when Aziraphale stepped out, but the floorboards certainly did. Crowley was sitting on the steps, head tilted towards the sun. It circled him like a halo, like certainty, like potentials and futures and loves. Then he glanced over, and the moment was gone.

“Are you sorry?” Aziraphale asked. In his head, his lips stung against Crowley’s, a kiss taken too soon and too much asked. In his head, his hands were still stuck shoving, still backing away, caring not for what he had left. In his head, he was still in the moment things fell apart, where patience fraying made a wrong moment seem right to Crowley. A faux pas of the severe kind. The sort of thing that explains why you must always ask before a first kiss.

“Yes.” Said Crowley. Around them the trees swayed. Within them, a thousand starts and ends and symphonies in between. Tension flew up and down Crowley’s veins like electricity.

In that moment, staring into Crowley’s shadeless eyes, Aziraphale forgave him.

He passed a pickaxe, his original shoddy one, to Crowley.

“Then, my dear,” Aziraphale stepped down the stairs, his own pickaxe swung over his shoulder.

“Let’s see what we can build together, yeah?”

And, with a smile full of relief and sunlight, Crowley follows along.

**Author's Note:**

> TW: before the fic, Crowley overestimates how prepared to kiss Aziraphale is. He kisses him, Aziraphale moves back, there is no further touch. This is absolutely a bad thing for Crowley to do, and this fic deals very lightly with the fallout.
> 
> Why make them Love when i can make them Fight And Get A Stronger Healthier Relationship From It?
> 
> Anyway, I think it's really easy to overstep when it comes to romance? Everyone gets impatient, and it can be easy to make the wrong assumptions about your partner's (or not partner's) comfort level. It's really important to directly ask, and well, I doubt Crowley can thread every needle. This fic is a spiritual companion to my "Crowley goes on a road trip and listens to country break up music" fic (not titled that), but while i intended to make it tougher for them to make up. Well.
> 
> He was gonna sleep in the caaaaaaaaaar, he woulda deadass let aziraphale knife him he felt HORRID. /I/ couldn't sit there and see him act so pained, and aziraphale certainly couldn't either. Besides, crowley's gonna break down more than his fair share of stone anyway. He's learned his lesson but the work will help aziraphale feel more comfortable about it.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Remember-fanfic authors love comments. Keyboard smashes, bunch of hearts, something deep, whatever. Do me a favor and if you don't comment on this fic (which is fine) please try to comment on other authors fics! The fanfic community lives off stuff like that and there's nothing better than helping ignite others passions!


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